Leaders
by sleapyGazelle
Summary: Shiro is missing and it's time to do something about it. Post-season 2. Cover image by yaboykeiji (tumblr)


**A/N:** I'm finally getting around to posting this fic that I wrote for my dear friend rainingWolf's birthday!

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It's Day 54 since the Black Lion opened and Shiro wasn't inside. Day 54 since Team Voltron was beheaded. For someone who slept unchangingly through millennia, Allura feels strangely weightless amid the vast expanse of space surrounding her. She feels like she's withering, despite the artificial gravity in the castle.

A soft Altean tune from her bedside clock chases away dreamless sleep. She rises the moment her eyes open. There is no day or night in space. It's all artificial light and then natural darkness. The mice's chittering, once so lively to her ears, is now background noise, no different than the constant hum of the castle's power.

Allura leaves her plush bed with resolute steps. Today is Day 54. But it will also be Day 1. She knows what she must do. In her shower, she allows the water to envelope her before it's sucked back into the ceiling vents.

Fifty-four days since Voltron was last formed. For 54 days, Keith has been trying to get the Black Lion to open for him, as Shiro had willed. Her heart lurches for the red paladin, burying his own grief under a thinly held veneer of leadership. _Leadership._ She dons her armor, its pink as close to black as any of the paladins' colors are. Helmet under her arm, she moves to the control room.

"Paladins! I need you in the control room now." A command. Like she's been giving ever since she woke up fatherless, stumbling into a stranger's arms.

Her call was to the paladins, but it's Coran who arrives first. "What's this about, Princess?"

Her reassuring nod says to him, _You'll find out soon enough._

The paladins file in. Their former selves are shadows of who they are now. Allura knows them from the mice's regular status updates over the last few weeks. They told her that Lance's relaxation music had lost its meaning to him, getting pointless and repetitive. He doesn't listen to it before bed anymore. He has bags under his eyes.

The mischief that always fluttered at the corners of Hunk's mouth is gone; he stands stoic. The mice see less of him in the kitchen than in the strategy room.

Pidge, who lost a brother without closure for the second time in less than two years, has anticipation and determination warring across her features. The mice once found her working on coding enhancements for Shiro's arm, because there was no question he was coming back.

And Keith. He stands before Allura, anger now a permanent part of his face. He wears his anger like a uniform, and carries himself like a soldier who found hope only to lose it again. Allura knows from the mice that he's been practicing dual wielding the Marmorra blade and his bayard.

But that hasn't seemed to impress the Black Lion. Which is how Allura has come to her decision. The Black Lion must know how to find Shiro.

"We _won_ ," she begins simply. "We delivered a devastating blow to Zarkon and the Galra, and yet we reel in loss. Unable to form Voltron, we slink in the shadows, too wary to take advantage of having beheaded the empire." She pauses, not just for effect, but to look her team in the eyes. They consider her words with the blank attention of footmen.

But fire blazes in Keith's eyes. It's because of _his_ failure that they no longer have Voltron. No one has yet found it wise to bring up the unlikelihood of Red giving him up for another. But Keith stopped seeking focus in patience when Shiro went MIA. Allura can lighten one burden at the very least. They will form Voltron. Today.

She continues. "Zarkon's son—a nobody who calls himself Prince—thinks he can take over the empire his father built. The empire his father _destroyed worlds_ to build over _millennia_. We will not sit around and let that happen. We are Team Voltron, defenders of the universe! We will _not_ be upstaged by some entitled brat. The days of the empire are over. And once Voltron is formed again, the rest of the universe will see that too."

Allura senses the response to her words in a quickened breath here, a stiff nod there. She feels more than sees Keith's fist clench. She turns to look at the man who's been standing solidly beside her. Coran is sad but proud, contemplative but unsurprised. It's all the reassurance she needs. With a nod to him, she turns back to her paladins to reveal her final card.

"And Voltron _will_ rise again. For _I_ will pilot the Black Lion."

Murmurs dance around her, but die out sooner than she would've expected, replaced by cautiously hopeful resolve. It mustn't be such a bizarre idea after all, she thinks, for the commander who once led from the control room to now lead from the frontlines.

For 54 days the team has waited for its fate to change. Training. Strategizing. Planning. That only ever got them so far. Their level of success has not always correlated with amount of planning.

"What about Lotor and that 'join the empire' flim-flam he sent us?" Lance asks.

"Yeah, we need to fight him," Pidge asserts.

"And we will," Allura assures her team. "Though the search for Shiro takes priority, we can and will fight battles that come our way in the meantime."

She takes a final look at her team. The confidence in her gaze clashes invisibly with the uncertainty inside her. "Prepare yourselves. The search begins anew in a few vargas."

Committing aloud that the Black Lion would accept her in that short a time gives her mission the finality she needs. It raises the stakes enough for success to be the only option.

She descends to the hangar where Black sits, regal, silent, looming. She does not touch him. Instead she stands before him, offering herself to his judgment. A few dobashes of this, and she knows from the rustling of dewy leaves at the edges of her mind that he's aware of her. All she can do is bare her heart and hope that it's in the right place.

"You know why I'm here." No prepared speech would suffice for this. She speaks as she thinks, freely and honestly.

"It's the second time you've lost your paladin. I understand your reluctance to trust another." The strangeness of the situation strikes her: convincing a robotic lion warrior that she understands his emotions. "But this time, you're going to get him back. Shiro is still out there." As she says this, the rustling leaves seem to catch in the wind of her words. Her suspicions are confirmed; the lion _knows._ But why won't he do anything about it? She looks up to search his blank gray-white eyes, and finds no answer. He must have a reason, and he needs to trust her before he can reveal it.

Now that they've made some progress, she allows herself to sit, cross-legged, facing him. With a deep steadying breath, she closes her eyes, and opens her mind to him fully. She allows her quintessence to reach out to his, and feels warmth, but no contact. Patience was never her strong suit, but it is what she needs to have right now. One dobash passes. Then two. Then ten. A varga goes by with neither of them moving, neither yielding. But the warmth has settled in Allura's belly, enough for her to feel comfortable enough to speak. To ask something of the being before her.

"If you know where Shiro is, please open up to me. We have to keep fighting. It's what we do. But this, it's not about the war. Not really. It's about one warrior." Images and sensations wax and wane in her mind—of a kind assuring smile, of eyes that saw into her soul, of a hand on hers, of a voice that exuded comfort and safety—threatening to choke her. She forces herself to go on.

"Having Voltron would help put an end to the evil Galra empire once and for all. But we could still do it with the Castle and the other four lions. What we– _I_ – can't do without you, is find Shiro." The black paladin's name brings forth a new tenderness from the lion, prompting her to go on, voice growing softer with every word. "I can't leave him behind. I would always go back for him. Even if it meant losing a certain victory. Even if it meant losing myself. No matter the cost. And I think you would too; after all, that is the nature of the true bond between a lion and its paladin. You would not be endangering me by allowing me to fly you. He is _our_ weakness. He is something we have in common. I am signing up for this." She gets to her feet, donning her helmet.

"I once sacrificed myself to the Galra to allow the black paladin to escape. Today, I will go as far as the Black Lion will take me to find and bring Shiro back."

A few ticks go by as the lion considers her. Then his eyes come to life in a brilliant hue of yellow. With a roar that Allura feels in her marrow, the Black Lion bows his head to her and opens his mouth. Only now does she touch him, a hand against his hatch, and bows her own head in thanks before entering.

The moment her hands grasp the handles, he opens his mind to hers. The meld is almost overwhelming, leaving Allura in awe of her father and what he created.

Ideas and images flood in, jumbled, and she struggles to make sense of it all. She lets the lion's thoughts wash through her for a moment, before picking at a thread and holding tight. Pretty soon, a story starts to unravel through the lion's eyes and piece itself back together in Allura's mind. _Shiro in the astral plane, his lion unable to get to him without a pilot. Keith pacing before the Black Lion, agitated, prodding his paws. The lion needing a pilot but reluctant to take the impulsive red paladin. Keith again, this time threatening to endanger his own life, about to open the airlock unless the lion would accept him. The Black Lion then silently but decisively refusing the boy who approached him without the cool head of a leader, who could not see the difference between the Red and Black lions._

And then a single glimpse of a vision entirely different from the ones before. The scenes Allura had just been shown had a cinematic quality. They were clearly memories. This new depiction is like a painting, intricate but artificial—it's the lion's imagination. It's Allura, more ethereal than she is in life, in black paladin armor. A deep purr accompanies the picture before it fades, replaced by a suggestion. _Time is of the essence._

"Indeed," Allura agrees immediately. "Let's bring Shiro back."

The lion surges forward and out of the castle, flying through space faster and faster until they reach the speed of light. All of a sudden, Allura feels a hollowness inside her. Just when she's certain she's going to implode, her surroundings vanish. But before darkness can register, there is light once more. It's dim and translucent She is standing outside her lion, but she doesn't remember getting out. She looks down at her hand; she can see herself. She clenches a fist, can feel herself. "Shiro?" Can hear herself. But nothing is substantial, like a hyper-real hologram.

Even for someone who spent her life in space travel, this place is like nothing she's ever seen or imagined.

At the sound of her calling out, a figure materializes in the distance. It approaches slowly, floating toward her, and Allura dares to hope. But as soon as she does, it zooms forward at an impossible speed, halting inches from where she stands. Zarkon.

"You are a FOOL to come here! A FOOL to bring the Black Lion" he hollers, and Allura practically feels his breath in her face, despite the complete lack of air. "After the fight with Voltron, I sent myself here to keep my mind alive while my body heals. And now I rule this realm. You and that lion will never escape."

Even incorporeal, the emperor's biggest weakness is his conceit. If he were in any position of power, he wouldn't still be here.

"Why do you rule this realm instead of the universe you spent lifetimes conquering?"

"You dare speak to me this way, filthy Altean RAT," he roars.

"I do." His antagonism draws out the warrior in her. An intense need to eliminate this fragment of the emperor claws its way into her mind, but she ignores it in favor of a more pressing question. "Where is Shiro?"

Zarkon laughs, full, deep, and evil. "You foolish child. There is no hope for him."

With a yell, Allura charges Zarkon. Before she's even raised an arm, he vanishes, only to reappear beside her, amusement clear on his vile features. "Oh good. Finally some entertainment in this plane."

Nostrils flaring she turns on him. " _Where is he?_ "

"I told you," he snaps, angered again. "There's no hope for him now. He is here, but his body is not. If he was lost in space, he is dead. If he was captured, his fate isn't much better." He looks rather pleased with himself. "I don't know if anyone told you, little girl, but if you die in this realm, you die in the physical world too. Even if Shiro has somehow survived thus far, Haggar and her druids will soon restore my body, and I will kill him here before returning to claim my victory. Either way," he deigns to look at her, "no hope."

There is only one thing of import to Allura in all of that. _He is here._

She makes her voice as demanding and irrefusable as she's able. "Where?"

Zarkon responds with a grin. "If you think I'm letting you leave, you're more foolish than I first thought."

He zooms toward her, reaching out a hand toward her face. She dodges at the very last second, and his strike connects with the space where her head had just been. Zarkon flashes behind her and attempts another blow. She wills herself to focus on his presence, and feels time slow down around her, enough to anticipate and block him. Perhaps he is not the only one who can command this realm.

She's not sure how, but she knows what to do. Keeping half her focus on avoiding the man zooming in and out around her, she brings up her memory of Shiro the last time she'd seen him—the day she'd lost him. With that image in her eyes she rakes her gaze across the astral plane.

Zarkon speaks, interrupting her search. "There is power in you. You fight like Haggar."

The name boils her blood. "Do not associate me with that traitor!"

"Don't be so blind. It is a compliment. Despite being born Altean, Haggar saw the truth of her inferior race. She now uses her powers for the greater cause of the Galra Empire. You could do the same, finally have a meaningful life."

Her loathing for him riles her, and she doesn't want to turn her back until she's killed the man who betrayed and murdered her father, and wiped out her entire planet. But she redirects her energies. There is someone more important who needs her attention today.

She feels something, behind Zarkon. Sidestepping his latest attack, she wills herself to go faster, and finds herself hurtling forward. She stops instinctively, and there he is. Lying unconscious on his side, hands stretched out in front of him, still in his paladin armor, is Shiro.

Allura's throat closes up. He is completely still.

Zarkon catches up to her before the single tear in her eye can fall. "Worry not, for you will soon share his fate." With these words of finality, he finally grabs her by the shoulders; and before she can tell what's happening, he has her hands bound and her legs paralyzed. Allura falls to her knees beside Shiro. But she knows this is far from over. She didn't come to this fight alone.

She senses him before she sees him: a reassuring purr in her brain, a surge to action. She smiles smugly at her captor even in her bindings. Zarkons bemused look is quickly wiped off his face, replaced in quick succession by surprise and rage as the Black Lion pounces, ever graceful, and bats his former paladin with one massive paw, pinning him.

Acknowledging his help with a grateful nod, Allura reaches within. There is no quintessence here to command, but she has herself and her own reserves. With her eyes closed, she rises on her knees. She reaches in and pushes outward at the same time, and the magic responds. The invisible bindings fall away. She slumps forward for a moment in relief, before glancing down at Shiro, now stirring beside her. She reaches for his hand.

"You're going to be fine, Shiro. Come with me."

Beneath the Black Lion's paw, Zarkon struggles. Allura pays him no heed. She lifts Shiro's arm and hauls them both up. He staggers on his feet, and she wraps a steadying arm around his waist, drawing him close. She drapes his arm across her own shoulders, supporting his weight fully. The Black Lion reaches his head down to open for them; and Allura, realizing Shiro can barely stand right now, much less walk, drags him inside.

She deposits Shiro as gently as she can on the floor of the cockpit, but he ends up in an unceremonious pile anyway. He's losing consciousness again, but she can swear she caught a muttered "lura" in his uneven breaths. Hearing his voice for the first time in months does things to her stomach, and she brushes a tentative hand through his lock of white hair. A sigh escapes him before he's out cold again.

Right. Time to go. Settling into the pilot's seat, she grasps the handles firmly. "Take us home," she says. A hum of agreement reverberates through her skull, before she has the feeling of being wrenched from reality, only it's the other way around. She's soaring ahead, until all of a sudden she's crashing into her waiting body. But when she opens her eyes, it's not to the welcoming view of her castle's hangar. It's to the foreboding gray-violet interior of a Galra ship. But they haven't stopped. They're still moving, phasing through the entire ship as if it's insubstantial.

Panic unsettles her for a moment, before she thinks to ask what's going on. But in the very same second, her heart thumps as she drops to an abrupt halt. This time, the sight of familiar blue-white walls greets her. Letting out a deep relieved sigh, she turns back toward Shiro. He's as still as ever, the rising and falling of his chest imperceptible.

As she gets her bearings, the Black Lion purrs around her. They did it. He's here. Shiro is back in the Castle of Lions. The moment she can stand, she flies out of her seat and drops to Shiro's side. She lifts his head, cradling it to her chest. She can't see or hear any breathing.

"It doesn't end like this, Shiro," she whispers. "Not after everything."

Dread creeping into her veins, she puts a hand to his chest. She feels a tendril of warmth curling against the skin of her fingers—his quintessence. "He's alive!" she breathes, as much for herself as for his lion. "Come on. Let's get you healed."

She pulls him to his feet. The deadweight in her arms weighs down her heart. She makes herself bigger to accommodate his mass in her arms, then lifts him with one arm under his knees and the other behind his shoulders. His arms hang limply as she carries him out of the lion and into the hangars. Coran and the other paladins are all there.

"Princess! You'd been in there for two vargas," Coran calls out as soon as her face materializes through the hatch. "And then five dobashes ago, the Black Lion flew out of the Castle. We were getting worried."

And then Allura walks into full view, Shiro looking tiny in her arms. Simultaneous shouts of "Shiro!" and "Princess!" fill the hangar as the team rushes forward as one to help.

"Ready the infirmary!" She orders. "He's alive but needs a healing pod _now_!"

Coran and Hunk run to the pod chamber, with Lance heading off to fetch a healing suit. Keith and Pidge flank Allura, impatient to see with their own eyes that Shiro is okay. Allura holds him as steadily as she can, trying to run to the medbay without jostling him any closer to death than he already is.

They deposit him into a pod. It seals and gets to work. And there's nothing left to do but wait.

So they wait. The paladins and Coran file in and out, checking up on Shiro as the day wears on and eventually turns to night. One by one, as it gets later in the night, they stop coming, relenting to sleep, until finally, only Allura remains seated before the pod, listening to its soft hum.

Waiting is frustrating. But waiting for Shiro to wake up, while nursing a heart heavy with all the things left unsaid, is torture. She sits, drumming her fingers against the cool floor, running threads of conversation through her mind. She needs him to wake up. She doesn't know what she'll say, or how, but she needs him back.

The vargas stretch on, and night bleeds into early morning (At least she thinks it does. Time isn't real in space. Not like it was on Altea, anyway), before Shiro's eyelids flutter. She latches on to the movement, standing up in anticipation. The pod, its work done, opens autonomously, and Shiro stumbles out, disoriented. Unused to supporting his own weight after the pod's environment, his legs are about to give. Allura reaches forward and catches him easily under his arms. He is slumped forward onto her, her arms around his broad back. He lifts his eyes to hers, and a becoming blush colors his otherwise pale face.

"Allura." A single word spoken, that holds the universe in its timbre.

She can't help but smile. She selfishly holds on to him for a moment longer than necessary, before helping him stand on his own. And suddenly he towers over her. She makes to back away, but Shiro's hand comes up to brush hers, hesitant. Their fingers touch, and neither pulls away.

"What happened to me? How did you… Allura, you saved me." His voice is wrecked from disuse, but the awe in it is unmistakable. Warmth curls in her belly to feel his voice and his skin all at once.

"You were stuck in the astral plane, and your body was captured by the Galra. We didn't realize you weren't in your Lion when we made our escape, and by the time we saw you were gone, we'd lost any leads we had on your whereabouts." She remembers those moments when she truly felt that all was lost—when she felt that way for the _second time_ in her life after losing her father. The dark memories make her pause. But Shiro moves his hand to cup hers more fully, and just that gives her a sense of comfort. She turns to him, face completely open. "We never stopped looking for you. _I_ never stopped. We all took turns scouting the galaxy, looking for the slightest of hints. But nothing panned out." She turns her palm up to his, and holds it, squeezing gently. "Until the Black Lion finally accepted someone to pilot him. He knew where you were, but couldn't enter the astral plane without a paladin."

Shiro looks over his shoulder at his armor stacked neatly next to the healing pod. "I'm fortunate, the whole _universe_ is fortunate, that you and the Black Lion bonded. But to be honest, I'm not surprised." He takes a step closer, and Allura's eyes widen. "You are a born leader, Princess. You earn respect that commanders with years of experience can't manage to." She feels a warmth on her own cheeks now at his words. She chooses to continue her explanation.

"Once we got you out of the astral plane, we had only a few moments to rejoin your spirit to your body. The whole time I was in the astral plane, we physically hadn't left the Castle. Then when it was time, your lion took us right to the ship where you were being held, and he phased us right out."

"He really is incredible." Allura isn't the only one to awe Shiro today.

"I know you wanted it to be Keith," she ventures, voice clear but vulnerable.

Shiro nods, squeezing her hand. "You'll always command Voltron, princess. But if I were gone, you'd need someone in the Black Lion while you control the Castle. When I told Keith it would be him, I just didn't realize the moment would come so soon." He chuckles. "I should've touched wood or something."

She grins back. "He'll get there, Shiro. I trust your judgment that he has it in him. He was too upset by your disappearance. It's the second time he was facing it." There is a lull in the conversation as Allura considers how easy it is to talk about _others'_ emotions compared to her own. But waiting for Shiro to wake up, she had promised herself she wouldn't choose an easy silence once she got him back. And now she has him back. So she begins, tentative,

"Shiro, when you were gone, I…" She trails off because it's too much. She has always relied on her words to express herself, but the sheer depth of what she's feeling right now—the grief she had lived with for nearly two months, and the giddy relief she feels at being this close to him again—is too much for words. Before she can talk herself out of it, she lets herself be impulsive. She reaches up and kisses him. Soft and chaste, it says everything she wants to but can't.

It must work, because Shiro seems to understand what she's said. He seems to want to say something too, because when she starts to pull away, his hands come up to cup her face and prolong the kiss. His lips speak of promise, of faith, of awe, and of course, of comfort. He takes it no further than the pace she'd set, and when they break apart, she's breathless, as if she's just come out of a healing pod.

When she looks up at him, Shiro is smiling, almost dazed. He rests his forehead against hers, and she laces their fingers together.

"That was almost worth sharing an astral plane with Zarkon for two months," he whispers, his breath tickling her nose.

Allura giggles. "We've still got that problem to deal with. But Zarkon gave something away when he was convinced I wouldn't return to this realm."

She doesn't want to think about strategy and war right now, but this is important enough to mention. Compromising by burying her cheek against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist, she elaborates, "If his body never heals, he'll stay stuck there forever. So we take the fight to Haggar."

Shiro envelopes her in the bulk of his arms, and rests his chin on her head. "I'm home now. We'll do it together."

They hold each other tight for a moment, before Allura breaks away to lead him to her room. There, in the dimly lit space, they can finally lie down, stealing as many moments of rest as they can before the others wake up, and it's back to work being defenders of the universe.


End file.
